Blindsided
When I left university I embarked on the next stage of my working life a long way from home, amongst the strange and exotic peoples who work and live abroad - a multi-national community of expats in a tourist resort in Spain.

I settled in, I met new people, I did my best to socialise.

And then it happened. I saw her in the administration office one day.

She was petite, with shoulder length wavy blonde hair, soft blue eyes and a luscious figure that I can close my eyes and imagine to this day. She glanced at me and surprisingly held my gaze. She smiled and I felt my heart melt. I decided to “play it cool”. In other words, I blushed furiously and stared at the floor as I stumbled my way out of her presence.

I asked around and found out that her name was Shirley, she was single, she’d been recruited in the UK and had only just arrived that week.

It was an opportunity that I dare not spurn. I could think of nothing but her. I was determined to ask her out. I spent the evening rehearsing what I’d say to her the next day, fretting over every possible detail, which bar to meet in after work - not one of the on-site bars that would be full of loudmouthed perma-pissed tourists, but a quieter one with a nice atmosphere and genuine local charm - which restaurants to suggest for dinner - fresh market fish by the beachfront, the pricey but superb Italian in the square or even the famous (to old hands) chicken shack up in the hills with its fantastic views, if she was feeling brave enough to ride pillion. I made sure my smart casual workwear was clean and pressed.

The next morning, I made my way to the office where she worked, brimming with confidence. I wasn’t going to wait for some random chance to chat to her, oh no. Too many opportunities had slipped through my fingers like that. This was a new world, a new life, a new me. I strode up to her desk, introduced myself and asked her how she was settling in. She looked up at me, smiled easily and told me her name and how excited she was to be working there, everyone seeming so friendly. She sat there, expectantly, waiting for me to continue the conversation, unaware of the toll on my frayed nerves to even approach her. “I kind of noticed you yesterday,” she added nervously, filling a silence that had started to become uncomfortable.

I gazed at her, shattered.

“Oh, so you’re a scouser, are you?” I blurted, my face red not with embarrassment but with frustration and anger at myself for this overlooked detail.

I'm so sorry but I really fucking hate scousers.

It's not specifically the accent, and I don't particularly think they're all unfunny, thieving, over-grieving, self-absorbed, smug, superior, 'world owes us a living' festering skidmarks on the unwashed undergarments of Britain.

I just really fucking hate them.
( wakeupandsmellthebacon, Wed 6 Apr 2011, 14:25, 7 replies)

She thought you were a creepy cunt and was only disappointed when you pansied out of chatting her up because she missed the opportunity to humiliate you in front of your no friends.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Wed 6 Apr 2011, 14:33, closed)

Yes
you're probably right. You must have put much time and effort into becoming so expert, so perceptive about others' social interactions. Watching. Noting. Analysing every nuance. It is rare to see such a remarkable talent put to such constructive use, helping others realise how sad and lonely they really are, how their awkwardness has left them with such empty lives.
( wakeupandsmellthebacon, Wed 6 Apr 2011, 14:54, closed)

And you smell of piss.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Wed 6 Apr 2011, 15:00, closed)

Does he have fleas too ?
The world must be told.
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Wed 6 Apr 2011, 15:47, closed)

Sadly not.
They are kept away by the smell of piss and sanctimony.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Wed 6 Apr 2011, 16:01, closed)

You
could have guessed that from her name. Nobody has been named Shirley outside of Liverpool for about 60 years.
(username failed moderation, Wed 6 Apr 2011, 14:35, closed)

Nice story
Makes a change this week
(TheColonel, Wed 6 Apr 2011, 15:05, closed)